


One Smooth Motion.

by MiracleDreamer



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blind Character, Chapter 9 Spoilers, Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, This was made at like one am so sorry, about mistakes, i dont know what im doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 05:45:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10074914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiracleDreamer/pseuds/MiracleDreamer
Summary: Ignis felt empty, the waves of self-pity lolling at a continuous rhythm in his head.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic for this fandom and I'm so sleep deprived. Figures.
> 
> So I know they don't have much time on the train but I just started writing and didn't notice until later when I was almost done. So go with it, yeah? I did my best to keep it at a pace that could fit when they were on the train.
> 
> Enjoy ! And excuse any mistakes, I'll fix anything up in the morning, when I'm not ready to fall over my desk and pass out ^^

Ignis felt empty, the waves of self-pity lolling at a continuous rhythm in his head.

 

The train rolled gently along, though Ignis couldn’t,  _ could never again,  _ see the scenery pass by him. It left a foul taste in his mouth, something akin to the atrocity the oversized wasps they killed days ago, days that felt like months to him, its taste tingling and rising, washing him over. 

 

He shifted in his seat, feeling the strong, radiating warmth of Prompto to his left. It felt duller somehow, the events of Altissia leaving their usual bubbly friend somewhat of a shell instead. It was, however, reassuring to know he could still work as a furnace in case it was a rough night. 

 

Altissia left a mark on them, imprinted on the inside of their hearts. The tension surrounding the four friends was palpable, its sting pushing a heavier burden onto his shoulders. Everyone felt distant, their closely linked strings on the verge of breaking. No one was happy, yet no one would do anything about it. Everyone had their own storm in mind, keeping tight into themselves in fear of breaking once they open their mouth.

 

Ignis knew the person who felt the worst was Noctis. The man lost his childhood friend, Luna being dear to him in every way possible. In her place was the ring, her life being the price for safely bestowing it into the hands of the prince. It was unfair, Ignis thought, how her life slipped as soon as they reunited after years. Her presence was a blessing to Noctis, thrown away as she fulfilled her duty, the dust settling, leaving Noctis in a fit of tears and cursing the Gods out for taking something from him once again.

 

A chill went through his spine as his mind popped with the idea of him being next.

 

The words Gladiolus spat at Noctis earlier were bubbling on the surface of his mind, turning over and being overanalyzed in a sense that Ignis knew he shouldn’t do. It was giving him a headache, the short relief of the two of them having left replaced with worry gnawing at him. The idea of them being alone should’ve been a safe thing, but Ignis couldn’t help but overreact, sure they would get at each other’s throat if they stepped into the same train car without any witnesses around.

 

It was a relatively good idea to assume he would go and look for at least one of them.

 

Grabbing the cursed cane resting beside his leg, he heaved himself up, the blackness that still roamed making his posture more stiff than needed. He was tense, the goosebumps appearing on his arms making him grit his teeth.

 

He despised feeling pathetic.

 

Growing up, Ignis wasn’t made to feel pathetic. He was too busy with becoming a suitable advisor for Noctis, such feelings repressed and locked tightly ever since he made a the switch to live with his uncle at the Citadel. He told himself he didn’t have time to think about feeling horrid or anything near to it. His stress was molded into something he could use, his hands taking action whenever needed. He took on whatever he could, no matter how lackluster it was. As long as it helped make him better than he already was, or to keep his prince and his friends safe. It brought his attention to other things.

 

Eventually, he found small details quite appealing. He started to enjoy cooking a little while after starting it, the criticism left by the prince giving him a passion to do better. Small smiles shared between the prince were delightful, especially when they were unexpected. The pats on his back when he and Gladio would finish up their training session invigorated him, even with the feel of sweat clinging to him, repulsed with his own hygiene at the moment while Gladio kept talking about some mundane thing. Even Prompto’s surprise photo shoots whenever he was focusing on something were made to relish, his life made brighter with intricate details carved into the big, tall ones.

 

His life always shined better with the three of them near him.

 

“Ignis.” The man jumped, startled by the deep voice so close to him. His unoccupied hand reached out, grabbing onto muscle he slowly recognized as Gladio’s arm. Ignis felt some stress ebb away from him, forgetting about his quest and instead deciding to sit back down. He felt Gladio sit next to him, meaning Prompto had left, the man hoping it was to go and find Noctis.

 

“Gladio.” His voice came out sickly, a foreign hoarse. He’s never sounded like that before, not even when he was sick, which was on very rare occasions. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t  _ right.  _ Right would be him not on the edge, all but one of his senses more hyper aware. It wasn’t him close to letting everything fall from his hands, his carefully constructed calm crumbling because of one little impediment.

 

He needn’t anyone to tell him he was falling into a pit of self-loathing, a self hatred for not being able to avoid his predicament hissing deep in him.

 

“Don’t worry Iggy. I got you.” A big hand cupped his cheek, the gentle touch making him flinch. It was only for a second, one that Ignis thought Gladio wouldn’t notice. However, the touch fell away, Ignis biting his lip angrily when he unconsciously tried to chase the warmth. He heard a deep hum slip out of Gladio, the man taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.

 

Neither of them said anything for a while. It was a comforting presence, Gladio’s menacing aura seeming to have faded away and replaced with the same gentleness granted to Ignis whenever they were alone, way before the fall of Insomnia, the beginning of a blossoming relationship and still going since then. It was spilling at the seams recently, the tenderness appearing more frequently when Ignis woke up to a dark world.

 

When he woke up, Ignis had thought he was still dreaming. He could see nothing, his eyes refusing to cooperate and kept shut. He had groped around the sheets, his voice turning from whispers to the burning of his vocal chords as panic fled through him, insistent screaming for Gladio. It was the first time he truly felt fear, fear of being a hostage of the Empire, of being ripped away from his remaining family.

 

Until Gladio barged into the room and held him tight, helping get through the panic attack until he would finally listen.

 

Major injuries to his eyes, Gladio had said. A scar marring his face, left as an ugly and sickening souvenir that he had to keep for the rest of his life. A prominent retelling stamped onto his features, one that forever remind him of his lost vision.

 

The news of his potentially lost eyesight was the hardest to ingest.

 

Gladio had to hold him close, whisper soft reassurances as he trembled. He let everything fall them, the pieces breaking on his lap as tears brimmed down his cheeks. He had to, had to break at the instance. He let himself have a moment of weakness for the first time in his life, hoping that it would relieve the heaving and burning pain of vulnerability. He reasoned it would be better to do it with Gladio overlooking him than anyone else. 

 

It didn’t escape Ignis that Gladio shed some tears that moment as well, the top of his head feeling the small drops of tears, wetting some strands as another sob wracked his body.

 

“Ignis, I’m so sorry.” Gladio had murmured, yet Ignis didn’t accept the words. Nothing was Gladio’s fault. It was all his, for being too careless, for letting himself get ahead when he wasn’t ready.

 

Now he had to suffer his own consequences.

 

“Iggy.” Ignis did his best to “look” at Gladio, a soft hum of surprise leaving him when lips met his. It felt self conscious more than ever, his lips chapped and probably screwed up with the taste of blood he felt lingering like a ghost on his tongue. 

 

When Gladio pulled back, Ignis did his best to quirk an eyebrow and smoothly say, “I thought I said public affection wasn’t really needed.”

 

“It’s okay, no one was looking.” Gladio picked up his hand and removed his glove, moving his bared hand to his cheek. Ignis sighed without thinking and let his thumb move over the cheek, letting it graze lower for the familiar scruff.

 

Frowning, Ignis moved the hand down to the back of his neck, shifting in his seat to lean more comfortably into Gladio, his head resting on his shoulder. Gladio let him, his own hand moving to run fingers through Ignis’ hair.

 

In one smooth motion, he pressed a kiss onto the top of Ignis’ head and whispered, “I’ll always be here.”

 

Ignis pushed away the negative thoughts crackling at the words and instead let his love for the man believe in them.

**Author's Note:**

> Ignis crying is my weakness. It hurts me so bad and I honestly felt like he should've been able to do that at some point, so this is what happened. One crumbles under the right circumstances. And Gladio, poor Gladio. I just want people to know he's not a dick. He cares, yeah? Alright, I'm done rambling. I'll be back to make another one of these, maybe in happier times !


End file.
